


Left on the Coatrack

by NataliePhoenix



Series: The small things are the things I miss the most, one shot collection [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: COATS CAN HAVE THREE WAYS TOO, Drabble, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Trenchcoats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 02:07:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NataliePhoenix/pseuds/NataliePhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With everything that Sherlock, the Doctor, and Castiel go through, not a second thought is given to their poor trenchcoats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left on the Coatrack

The three figures stood where they always lurked, waiting for their partners to hurriedly grab them off the ground or chair-or in this case a proper coat stand-and toss them on. Maybe in the end no one really thought about how long they waited, alone and bedraggled-but they always waited for their masters, partners really. Neither partner was complete without the other, whether they were really needed to protect against the cold or not. But just this once the three trenchcoats weren't left alone, they were together.

Sherlock's grey, woolen coat was on top of course, just as an excuse to look out for a distraction as the man himself. It lovely cuddled the two beneath it, knowing how it felt to be tossed to the edge. But here they were all together, and this trench coat was never going to let them go.

Below them the tan figure of Castiel's trenchcoat snuggled between the two. It had been through so much, transported at lightning speed, burst apart so many times, only to be brought back so it could happen again. For once it felt the hush of Sherlock's trenchcoat's delicate threadlines brush up against its back, felt the kindled sleeves of the Doctor's trenchcoat below him. There was no running, or drowning, or exploding right now, it was safe.

Finally on the very bottom was the Doctor's trenchcoat. It was used to being cast aside, forgotten. The Doctor was someone new, someone different-who betrayed him for such trash as a bow-tie and suspenders. The Doctor it knew would have never discarded his trenchcoat without a thought; but that was the problem, the Doctor changed so drastically, and left it all alone. It had given up now, lonely, broken-but here was two other coats, still full of life, full of promise. They curled around the forgotten trenchcoat, their fluffy insides rubbing against all the patches and tares, and just this once it didn't spend it's night alone. The cold TARDIS wall wasn't the only thing beside it now.

Eventually the man, Time Lord, and angel finished bouncing around, discussing how to save the world and other such things, and once again they took up their trenchcoats without a second thought. They never took a moment to appreciate how these loyal coats always waited for them, cast away till they were needed again. But this time Castiel found himself having to untie one arm from the Doctor's trenchcoat; one from Sherlock's. The Doctor's coat stared longingly from its forgotten perch, wailing inside as it watched its two companions scurry away with their partners. It gathered dust once more.


End file.
